


Slow Burn

by tielan



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: F/M, Pre-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-14
Updated: 2014-08-14
Packaged: 2018-02-13 03:33:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2135514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tielan/pseuds/tielan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For those who died and those who lived.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slow Burn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jayjaybe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jayjaybe/gifts).



The first time he notices her is at a protest in Kyiv, screaming at the security officers as they drag away the worst of the rabble-rousers in the crowd protesting the Russian occupation of the Crimea.

He remembered her for the curses she spat at the police dragging her away.

–

The first time she notices him is beneath the bare branches of a winter oak, holding up a lighter at the memorial for the victims of Trespasser and Hundun – a rare moment of accord, when they aren't Russian and Ukrainian, police and protester, just all humanity joining together against this menace that has struck twice.

She remembers him because he is big, and their eyes lock across the crowd, and in spite of the solemnity of the moment, his face softens.

–

“The world is larger than Russia,” he tells Gregor. “And the pay is good.”

“The work is dangerous,” the other man grunts. “And a long way away.”

“A long way away is _also_ good.” He takes Gregor’s snort in good humour. “You could come.”

“And die the next time the monsters – these _kaiju_ – attack? No, thank you.”

Gregor stays. Aleksis goes to Asia.

–

Her ex-boyfriend is being an annoyance, the world will not stir itself to look into the Russian annexation of the Crimea, and there are other things stirring in the waters beneath the Pacific.

When Kaiceph hits Cabo San Lucas, she goes to join the clean-up crews in Peru. It’s hard work, and a challenge, but she manages and marshals, and few people argue with her, although some men mutter that she is a ‘ball-breaker’.

“The men here need stronger balls,” she says to her co-worker as she finishes off the assignment list for the clean-up crews, “if they are broken merely from a woman giving them orders.”

Her co-worker starts to laugh, then pauses, her gaze going to the door and the man who looms in its frame, barely clearing the lintel.

It takes her a moment to work out why he seems familiar.

“In Kyiv,” she realises. “By the tree.”

–

She is known as Sasha and she does not suffer fools. He likes that she is blunt and direct, that she is comfortable in her skin. 

They become friends of a sort - two who have encountered each other before, who keep encountering each other again. In the makeshift offices, on the working crews, in the mess hall, on their downtime. It takes him almost two months to work up the courage to ask her out, but only two hours for her to decide that he is beddable. Luckily, he has condoms.

So does she.

“Preparation,” she says when he comments on this between kisses. “I believe in it.”

He believes in passion and focus, the taste of her sweat as it slides down the join of her neck and throat, and the strength of her thighs over his hips.

“I am not glass,” she tells him as he moves carefully in her – then squeals when he moves more roughly, her head arching back. “More like it!”

Some of the men start to make jokes about his balls of steel. He thinks it is in bad taste and says so.

The jokes stop.

–

They fall into a pattern of sorts - meeting up and hanging out. She likes the way he thinks and considers, until he makes a decision and then it is done.

In the riots after Sydney is hit, they find themselves defending a local shop from looters, then helping the shopkeepers move things into the back of the store, into the house and garden where their family and friends have gathered together for protection and comfort.

They stay to help defend the shop through the night until sunrise. A simple dinner is pressed upon them – sharp, succulent flavours of earth and sky, so different from the bland and over-processed meals of the clean-up crews.

“My father was a shopkeeper,” he says to her in Russian that night when they are curled up in a corner of the back room, surrounded by the murmurs of the families, while others patrol the block against the marauders. “We were stolen from, once, when I was young.”

She doesn’t ask. He doesn’t tell.

–

The military come to return order, and life returns to normal – or, at least, as normal as it will ever be.

The world is starting to accept that the _kaiju_ are going to continue to come at them, and there is a great meeting in Asia - a conference of ideas to work out a way for humanity to fight back.

“The Pan Pacific Defence Corps,” she says, listening to the news. “A United Nations taskforce.”

“But does it have any hope of succeeding?”

“You do not believe in the milk of human kindness?”

“I believe a goat might eat a wolf,” he answers – an old Russian proverb – and while she shakes her head at his cynicism, she cannot deny that the likelihood of the world working together is not high.

They discuss what they will do when the clean-up of Cabo is done, but neither of them have any particular thoughts, any particular preferences.

–

A man arrives at the Cabo clean-up centre, tall and wearing a uniform. He walks with the measured confidence of one who knows who he is and what he seeks, and after asking around the clean-up centre, he comes looking for them at the shop they defended back during the riots. They made friends here, and although the barrier of language is still great, they are tearing down the walls one word at a time.

“Stacker Pentecost,” he says. “Pan-Pacific Defence Corps. They tell me you were good help during the riots.”

“They needed help and we were available to give it.”

Pentecost gazes at the sun-washed street and the people who are only just starting to come back out and live their lives in the open again. “I may have work for you with the PPDC. We have a need of people like you – people willing to help – if you’re interested."

They glance at each other and the neighbourhood they helped to protect. There is a life here – a good life.

But in their heart of hearts, they know it is not for them.

–

The air is crisp and cold, sharp against the back of the throat when they step off the plane and take a deep breath.

“It is good to be in fresh air again,” he murmurs.

“Even if it looks like a prison?” Whoever built the place had no sense of style: seventies cement brutal against forbidding rock and crashing sea.

They follow Pentecost across the tarmac. Others came with them from Mexico, and they cluster together, faces made familiar by the long journey over the sea. But none so familiar as they are to each other. 

She leans into him as they stride towards the facility, glad of his height and weight – windbreak and warmth against the tussle of the wind. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Pentecost says once they’re inside. “Welcome to the Jaeger program.”

–

They don't need everyone as pilots in the Jaeger program.

“We need people who can work as aircrews and groundcrews, too,” Pentecost explained. “People who can think on their feet and work as a team, not just give and take orders. You’ve already shown initiative – going to Cabo, defending that shop. And you’re a natural team, anyway.”

So they’re in the air when Karloff hits Vancouver, monitoring the _kaiju_ as it comes ashore.

She leans against him to better see Brawler Yukon wading through the waters of the continental shelf; and the communications chatter rings in her ears as it stomps its way through the city, heading for the _kaiju_.

In later years, they will witness and fight many battles against the kaiju – in the simulator and in real life – but this is different. This is the first and it is real – every strike, every blow. The creature whips out its tail, and Brawler Yukon catches the appendage in a mechanical grip. It screams in pain, it's head jerking around in shock, and the Jaeger follows it up with a punch. Back and forth, punch and blow, step and stagger, the Jaeger piloted by Lieutenant D'Onofrio and Dr. Lightcap defends the city against the  _kaiju_ \- bringing it down with a mighty blow. The world holds its breath as Karloff staggers back, crushing cars in its wake, and falls to rise no more.

A mighty cheer rises up in their throats - in the chopper, in the city beneath them, all around the world - as Karloff dies in shock and surprise in the streets of Vancouver.

This is a moment that the world will not forget: the day they fought back.

There are tears, too - it has taken them a long time to reach this point, a slow burning to bring humanity to the point where they can fight back. But they _can_ fight back. And they _will_. 

She looks up at him and sees an icy night in his expression, too, hot breath steaming into cold air from a thousand mouths, the lighter flames and phone faces raised to the sky in memorial.

“For those who died,” he murmurs.

“And for those who live,” she adds.

Past and future, stretching out behind and before.

 _No more_.


End file.
